


Point of no Return

by Antecanis



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Incest, M/M, Parent/Child Incest, some violence in Chapter 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-08
Updated: 2014-10-07
Packaged: 2018-02-16 15:42:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 17,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2275347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Antecanis/pseuds/Antecanis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The older Connor gets, the more obsessed he is with the strange man who somehow popped up several times during his youth; and he tries to make sure that their paths cross again. (Chapter 1)<br/>However, after Ziio's violent death things start to get complicated when his father shows up to take him in for some time; and Connor not only recognizes him as the man he has always been looking for; but Haytham's job and Connor's wish for revenge get them in danger. (Chapter 2)</p><p>I somehow managed to write this whole thing out of a three-sentence-idea I had... qwq</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Stranger

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this for a former rp partner; initially wanting to share a "short AU idea"... But the story got somehow longer and longer, and I figured I could publish it on here in case anyone wants to read it?  
> (╯°▽°)╯︵ ┻━┻

The first time Connor remembered seeing the strange man was after his first day of school; he saw him argue with his mother, but couldn't make out what they were saying. However, when he got closer and they noticed him, the man turned away with one last inaudible sentence, and disappeared; not from the young boy's thoughts, though.  
He saw him only a few times after that; one time he came to their home, and Connor hid behind the kitchen counter to listen to the mystery man's pleasant voice.  
"It's no world for him; I don't want you to drag him into that.", Ziio said.  
"I know.", the man answered, a defeated tone in his voice. "I still wish..."  
"No."  
The man sighed, and suddenly Connor was aware that the other had seen him; crouched behind the counter. His eyes widened a bit as they met with the man's grey ones, and a shiver ran through him; expecting to be dragged from the corner and advised not to secretly listen to his mother's conversations. But instead of telling Ziio, the man winked at him and then returned to face Connor's mother.  
"You are right. I should go." With that, he disappeared again, until Connor saw him again two years later at a parade on July 4th; the whole city was celebrating and crowding in the streets; shouting, drinking.  
Connor was eleven, and excitedly took in everything that presented itself to him; the costumes, the decorations, the music and the apparent general happiness.  
But somehow he let go of his mother's hand, and without really noticing right away, he was lost among the crowd of people. He hated being touched; he hated being among people he didn't know; and hated being lost. He walked around the streets where he had last been with Ziio; but couldn't find her.  
After almost an hour he spotted someone else; the mystery man from his childhood; leaning against a wall and watching the parade with sharp grey eyes. Connor didn't even think about what he was doing; running toward him and only stopping when he stood right in front of him. The man looked surprised; but Connor could see that he knew who he was; and tears of helplessness stung in his eyes, a lump in his throat keeping him from saying anything. The man got to his knees; looking Connor in the eyes and placing a hand on his shoulder. At first, Connor flinched; not liking other people's touch; but as soon as the other's hand rested on his shoulder, he felt a calmness overcome him; a comforting feeling running through him.  
"What are you doing here?", the man asked, his grey eyes fixed upon the boy, who was finally able to speak. "I got lost.", he whispered, blinking away the tears.  
"Don't worry, boy. I'll help you find your mother.", the man said, smiling reassuringly. When he got up, Connor reached hesitantly out to take the other's hand. The man looked down on him, and the boy could see surprise in his expression, but then the bigger hand closed around his' and the boy smiled up to him, wiping the tears from his cheeks.  
Connor never found out how he did it; but it didn't take the man long until they saw Ziio in the distance; apparently asking people if they had seen her son. But instead of walking up to her right away, the man stopped, kneeling down beside Connor once more, and looking at him sternly. "There you go, Ratonhnhaké:ton."  
He squeezed Connor's hand and then let go of him. "You must not tell your mother you saw me, do you understand? It's our secret." He smiled softly, and Connor nodded; wondering why his heart was suddenly beating so fast. Without any second thought, he flung his arms around the man, and whispered, "Thank you." Then he ran toward his mother, who was relieved to see him and wrapped her arms around him; grey eyes watching them from far away.  
The boy kept his promise to the man; and didn't tell his mother about their encounter. However, he wasn't able to forget how it had felt to be in the man's arms like that; it was something soothing; something pleasant, vaguely familiar, and... exciting.

  
It would take Connor four years until he would see the man again, but it changed everything when he did.  
He had spent an afternoon in downtown Boston with his friends; hanging around at a store for video games, and having something to eat at the mall, and he was running late to return home; walking alone to the bus station that would take him to his mother's place. A light rain was falling, and Boston's streets seemed empty and grey. Connor was lost in thought when his eyes glanced around; and suddenly there he was; the man; just down the street, clad in an elegant three-piece suit and accompanied by some equally well clad men and women. They entered an expensive looking restaurant, and Connor got slowly closer, all too well remembering that 4th of July when he had seen him last.  
It was weird, but somehow he hadn't been able to forget the man; and while the other boys in his class had started to like girls, he still hadn't gotten their appeal; the only person that somehow managed to get into his dreams in that kind of way had been the mystery man he didn't even know the name of. He had planned on asking Ziio about him, but somehow never managed to pluck up the courage to do it. He could still hear the man's voice; telling him that their meeting was a secret.  
Mother probably thinks I don't remember him, Connor mused; looking at the restaurant in which the people along with the man had disappeared. And while he was standing in the rain, slowly getting soaked to the bone without really noticing, he had an idea.  
  
Sure, it was no safe guarantee to see the man again - but a few months later, after his sixteenth birthday, Connor started working at the restaurant as a kitchen boy. He was paid almost nothing and had an insane amount of work to do; it was a thankless job. But the only thing that Connor was somewhat bitter about, was the fact that he rarely even had a chance to leave the kitchen to get close to the guests; however, every evening when he was working, he would look through the huge round window from the kitchen into the dining room; hoping to see the man among the guests.  
Week after week passed; and Ziio complained about him working so much that he even fell asleep in school, and still earned a damn pittance. Truly, after four months Connor started to curse the job and his stupid obsession with the strange man; not having seen him once.  
And then, one evening, all these curses evaporated when he glanced out of the kitchen through the window like every day, and saw a man with long silvery hair, tied back with a black ribbon. He sat with his back to the kitchen, and Connor feared for a moment that his mind was playing a trick on him; however, as if knowing that he was watched, the man turned around, almost looking at Connor, who now knew it was him; the man he was looking for. And suddenly he wondered what he was supposed to do now; if he should walk up to him and his company; but to say what? That he had helped him five years ago when he had been just a boy? That the man was, except for Connor's mother, the only person whose touch the boy could bear; a touch he even enjoyed? That he had dreamed of him, had waited for him, had worked here just to see him again, to catch a glimpse of him?  
No. And Connor stayed where he was; finishing his work like every other day, and letting the man go like any other guest, while his heart ached at the thought of losing his trace once more; of being so unprepared and dumbfounded that he didn't know what to do.  
However, the restaurant was an expensive one, as Connor had observed on that rainy day months ago; and they kept a guest book by the door; checking with reservations and listing the regulars. When he left that evening he looked at it; looking tentatively at the names that had reserved the table at which the man had been sitting; and he said each of them to himself like a vow; as if their sound alone would tell him which belonged to the man...  
  
From then on, Connor didn’t complain about his job ever again; not cursing it anymore, just quietly doing as he was told; working as fast and diligent as he could; however, peeking out of the window every evening. He worked almost every day during the week; and Ziio started to constantly worry about him; guessing he did it for the money, which didn’t make too much sense, since he could earn more in other places. She kept asking what he needed the money for; and offering she would give him some; because he needed to concentrate on school more; needed to work less.  
But Connor didn’t want to hear any of it; stubbornly insisting on keeping the job at the restaurant.  
Then, one evening, Ziio did something she had never done before; she mentioned Connor’s father.  
“Please, Connor, I’ll… how much do you need? How much money do you need? Tell me. What are you saving up for? A driver’s license? A car? Both?”  
He just shook his head and wolfed down the meal she had prepared; he had to leave in a few minutes to be on time for work; and he made sure to never be late.  
“Listen… I’ll ask him. I’ll ask your father for money. How much do you need? Tell me. This job doesn’t make any sense; it doesn’t pay anything and you don’t get any real work experience aside from cleaning plates.”  
Connor looked up at her with mild surprise; his father being a topic she always avoided; sure, he knew he was alive, somewhere, but he was not to be spoken of; as if he was dead. Not even his name was to be mentioned, and Connor didn’t remember it; maybe she had never told him.  
“No”, he just said, clearing the table and shooting her an irritated glance. “I don’t need that man’s money; I like my job. I’ll keep it.”  
And with that, he left; not yet knowing that his stubbornness would pay off not too many months later.  
  
He saw the man again, a few weeks after he had once more declined his mother’s offer to give him some money in order for him to quit his job. And he couldn’t help but notice how his heart sped up at the sight of him; wearing an impeccable suit like the last times he had seen him; accompanied by other friends or colleagues this time; only one or two among them that Connor vaguely remembered seeing last time. However, they were not of importance; and Connor spent the evening looking through the window every second he could spare; trying to keep every detail about the man in mind; every movement, facial expression; and he wished to hear his voice again; faintly recalling the few words the other had ever said to him; the way he had said Connor’s native name…  
When all the guests were gone on that evening, Connor walked up to the guest book again; going through the names once more, and comparing them to the ones he had seen on there last time; only three names matching; and he said them out loud again; not wanting to forget them; knowing that one of them belonged to the man.  
  
A few weeks before his seventeenth birthday, Connor got promoted to a waiter; which not only meant more pleasant work, but he also got tipped by the guests; and suddenly his income increased rapidly, enabling him to actually get a driver’s license and buy an old car. Ziio eventually stopped bugging him about the job; seeing how determined he was about it, and how it apparently paid off now, after all these long months of drudgery.  
However, it was not the car that made Connor happy in these days after his promotion; it was the discovery of the man’s name.  
He had returned to the restaurant two more times; and finally, after working almost one year for nothing but a name, Connor looked at the guest book and only one name came up that he had seen before; Mr Haytham Kenway.  
 _Haytham Kenway_ , he said to himself, repeating the name until it was more a charm or a spell than a name; as if he could plainly summon the man himself by saying his name just often enough… As if it was the answer to the question what he even wanted from the other.  
  
Being a waiter would unfortunately - or fortunately - mean that Connor had to get close to the guests; take their orders, bring them their meals; or wait at the entrance to accompany people to their tables. He was afraid to, one day, stand in front of the man… of _Haytham_ , and be recognized by him.  
Then what?, Connor thought, still unsure about how to approach him. He wanted to be thoroughly prepared for that moment; to fully know what he wanted from him. What was that exactly? What did he expect to find?  
For now it didn’t matter; for now he was happy to be able to see him, to have a place where he knew the other would show up, even if it took weeks or months.  
  
Those rare nights when he didn’t work at the restaurant, Connor started to go out with his friends more often; usually on Monday night when the restaurant was closed. He was by now used to only a few hours of sleep each night, and a short nap around noon, and he liked to busy himself while he wasn’t working.  
When he had been sixteen, he had had his first kiss with a nice enough girl from his school; however, he figured it wasn’t what he was looking for, and didn’t try again, up until a few days after his seventeenth birthday on April 4th. He was out with his best friend Desmond and an exchange student, who Connor hadn't known until that very evening.  
“Connor? That’s Ezio, ’s spending a semester here. ’s from Italy.”, Desmond shouted, already sounding rather drunk; trying to be as loud as the music around them. Connor and Ezio shook hands, and their evening went on for a bit. Connor sat by the bar, drinking by himself, ignoring the attention of a woman next to him, while Desmond tried to flirt with a blonde girl.  
Suddenly Ezio appeared next to him, nudging him, and leaning in to whisper, “I’m meeting someone in another bar. I feel like it could be… interesting for you, too. You should come with me.”  
And so Connor did, leaving Desmond to himself and the blonde girl.  
  
The bar they entered half an hour later was unknown to Connor, and it took him a moment to realize what kind of bar it was. Ezio went through the crowded place, looking for the person he wanted to meet, while Connor wondered how the exchange student apparently knew more about Boston's night life than he did.  
The blond man Ezio approached was also unknown to Connor, but it didn’t surprise him too much when they kissed as a greeting, eyes locked and hands on their hips; after all, there were only men in this bar.  
That very night, Connor was for the first time really intimate with someone; and it was the night he understood what he wanted from Mr Haytham Kenway. He accompanyied an older man, whose voice had reminded him so much of the man; of Haytham, and it was only when the other talked to him in a low voice while opening up his pants on a shabby couch, that Connor realized he wanted him like this. And when he closed his eyes and concentrated enough, he could almost pretend it were Haytham's fingers on his cock; could almost pretend it were his lips on his skin, and his fingers stretching him.

From then on, Connor started to frequently visit the bar Ezio had shown him, sometimes accompanied by the Italian and his boyfriend Leonardo; sometimes alone. Now he was every evening out; either working, drinking or making out with random men he somehow felt were reminding him of Mr Haytham Kenway.  
He didn’t quite know how it had really come to this; and he didn’t care too much; hoping it would somehow help him to eventually approach the man himself.  
One day, he decided to ask Ziio about the man she had talked to on Connor’s first day of school; but she denied having talked to anyone that day; and Connor gave up.  
The man visited the restaurant two times while Connor was working as a waiter; and both times he managed to successfully flee from coming even close to him; sending his colleagues to the table, and even going as far as to just vanish for a moment from the dining hall in order to avoid having to talk to him.  
  
And then, as if it was fate, the 4th of July came to answer Connor’s silent wishes; six years after Connor had flung his arms around Haytham Kenway for the very first time.  
The restaurant was the location for a huge party; everyone was wearing costumes, masks and hats; one more ridiculous than the other. However, the staff was required to wear at least something of that, and Connor put on a silly eagle mask, actually glad to have something he could hide behind; and he wore two ribbons holding his dark hair back; a red and a blue one.  
The evening started out rather exhausting; as waiter he had to run around and bring champagne and little amuse-bouche to the guests, who got visibly more and more drunk. Connor regarded it as yet another day of work; if something then it was just more work than usual.  
This, however, changed, when Haytham along with three other people entered the restaurant shortly before midnight. Everyone was already rather drunk, and no one noticed anymore who was staff, and who was guest. Even Connor’s boss, who was usually keen to keep everyone in line, was flirting shamelessly with a guest and didn’t pay any attention to his employees drinking the champagne they were supposed to hand to their guests.  
Feeling a bit safer behind the mask, Connor slowly approached Haytham and the others, mutely holding out the tray of champagne to them, while his chest seemed to burst because his heart was beating so hard. Those who accompanied Haytham didn’t even notice Connor as they took glasses of the tray, but Haytham… Connor could feel the other’s eyes on him, and for a moment their eyes met; locking for just the briefest second. Haytham seemed to hesitate a moment; as if he was thinking about something, or someone, but then shook his head almost invisibly and shot a mild smile in Connor’s direction when he took a glass of champagne.  
Telling his feet to move away again, Connor let out a shaky breath when he had left Haytham and his group. He glanced back and looked at the older man; tried to memorize everything about him; tried to figure out how he could approach him without being awkward. The whole evening, Connor followed him around, unnoticed, as he thought, and blatantly staring at him; longingly; desperately trying to think of something; anything, he could say to the man; wondering if he wanted Haytham to know who he was, or if he didn’t.  
This decision was, however, taken from him when he went to the kitchen to fetch more champagne - a welcomed excuse to maybe approach Haytham again. It was already past three am, and the party was slowly getting out of control. No one was really doing their work anymore, and everyone was just drinking, kissing and enjoying themselves in the name of freedom.  
Connor heard the door behind him and figured it was one of his colleagues, not even bothering to turn around. But the other person didn’t pass him to get anything; just walked up to him and stood only inches away; making Connor’s hair stand on end.  
Turning around slowly, his heart missed a beat when he stood before Haytham, who looked at him musingly, the hands buried in his pockets. Glad that his face was hidden by the mask, Connor felt how his cheeks reddened and how a shiver went through his body. Before he could bring out any word, the other said slowly, “I’ve noticed you following me around tonight.”  
Connor’s mind was blank, and he couldn’t think of anything to reply with; no excuse coming to his mind. Haytham came a step closer, and Connor wanted to back away a bit, however, he was already standing with his back to the large kitchen counter, on which countless glasses and empty bottles of champagne stood. The other’s grey eyes were fixed on him scrutinizing; as if he was considering something, and Connor just looked at him, awaiting what might happen.  
Haytham reached out, wanting to take the younger man’s mask off; but Connor turned hastily away, not ready to lose this piece of protection just yet. He could feel the other’s fingers on his chin, forcing his head to look up again, and before he could say anything, Haytham leaned in, gently placing his lips on Connor’s; who at first hesitantly, then hungrily returned the kiss.  
“Is this why you’ve been following me around?”, the older man breathed out, his lips brushing over Connor’s when he talked.  
“Yes”, was all that Connor could get out, “yes.”  
His eyes searched for Haytham’s again, and he wondered if the other could see the hunger and longing in them; could feel Connor’s heart fluttering in his chest; could see how he shivered when they were standing so close; how blood rushed down and left his mind empty and desperate.  
It seemed almost like a dream; and Connor blinked, trying to figure out if he was really awake, if it was really happening. Hesitantly, he reached out, his fingertips touching the fabric of Haytham’s vest and he had to force himself to not turn away and flee; overwhelmed by their closeness. Instead, he ran his fingertips over the other’s chest and leaned in for another kiss; savoring every second of it; and realizing how faint and useless every kiss had been up until now.  
And as if this second kiss had somehow broken the last remnants of ice and reservation between them, their hands were suddenly all over the other; exploring the curves and lines of their bodies; curling into the fabric and keeping them close and pressed against each other, while they breathlessly broke away from the kiss, their eyes searching for the other’s gaze, and locking when they found it.  
“Fuck me.”, Connor said almost inaudibly, and only being aware of what he had said after he had said it. He swallowed hard, watching the other closely, and feeling how Haytham shuddered, a small smile appearing on the older man's flushed lips; his hands digging into the younger man’s sides.  
“Cutting right to the chase, are we?”, Haytham said lowly, proceeding to lift Connor onto the counter; but the younger man turned from his grip.  
“Not here”, he breathed, eyeing the kitchen door and motioning the other to follow him.  
  
While he led Haytham to the locker room, where he put on his waiter’s uniform every day, and kept his backpack, he pinched himself, just to be sure he wasn’t dreaming; just to make sure he was really awake. For Haytham, he guessed, this was probably just some party hook up; a cute young waiter, who had shown interest; someone to just take for one night… For Connor, however, it was so much more; it was somehow the fulfillment of countless dreams and fantasies that had accompanied him throughout the past couple of years, and he shivered in both anticipation and fear.  
When they reached the locker room, Haytham leaned against the doorframe, and watched the waiter search for his backpack, from which he produced two things. Connor had started to keep a few things in a hidden pocket in his backpack; actually something for the lonely Mondays, but in that very moment he was glad to have it with him. He turned around, taking the older man by the hand, pulling him into the room and locking the door behind them. He put the things on a small table next to them, and pulled Haytham close again; wanting to kiss him again.  
“Let me take that mask off…”, the older man whispered before their lips touched, but Connor just shook his head and opened his mouth slightly for the kiss; his hands wrapping around the older man’s waist as he pressed against him. Haytham seemed almost surprised by the boy being both demanding and shy; so wanting and distant at the same time.  
“Then tell me at least your name.”, he said when they broke apart, his breath already going in soft pants, while Connor could feel the other’s cock pressed against his thigh; weirdly happy about being able to have this effect on him.  
“No”, Connor answered softly but determined, starting to open up the other’s pants; too impatient to indulge in any further attentions beside what he wanted most; had wanted for such a long time. Baring the other’s cock, he gave it a few soft strokes; swallowing hard and looking at the other again; suddenly feeling insecure, even though he had been so sure about this whole thing just a moment ago.  
As if he had sensed the other’s sudden uneasiness, Haytham kissed him again, and then whispered, “You can still say no and walk away, boy.”  
However, Connor just shook his head and started to open his own pants with shaky hands, until he felt Haytham’s soft touch on them. “Let me.”, the older man said, and with a few movements he freed the young man of both pants and underwear; reaching down and running his hand over Connor’s length; having the young man gasp. Haytham smiled softly, pulling away and lifting the waiter onto the small table beside them.  
He grabbed one of the two objects Connor had placed there and opened the small tube of lube, slicking his fingers while looking at the other for approval one last time. Without saying a word, Connor leaned back a bit; awkwardly presenting himself for the other’s touch, while he placed his legs on either side of Haytham’s body; swallowing hard and trying to remember every detail about them being together; how Haytham looked, how he moved, how he felt and smelled like. His dark, glassy eyes were fixed upon the older man, and only fluttered close shortly when Haytham pushed a finger into him, and a pleasant sting shot through Connor’s body; carrying the promise of pleasure with it. Opening his eyes again, he let out a shaky breath, relaxing around the intrusion as Haytham started to move in him, and soon he was gasping; panting and moaning as the older man pushed inside of him with two fingers.  
“It’s enough… It’s enough.”, Connor gasped, knowing it wasn’t; but not wanting to wait any longer. Haytham just raised his brows, however trusting the boy, who had been so prepared for a situation like this, and he took the second object from the table; rolling the condom on and lubing himself up before coming close again. By now, Connor was trembling again; his lips flushed and parted, soft and needy sounds pouring from them. The thought alone; the idea of being taken by the man he had dreamed of for so many years sent shivers through his body.  
The only person he had ever wanted to be close with was right there in front of him and Connor let out a soft gasp of gratitude; silently thanking fate, or whoever was responsible for granting him this very moment.  
It hurt when Haytham eventually pushed inside of him, and Connor bit back a whimper, concentrating on the sensation itself, and he vaguely noticed how Haytham reached out to give his cock a few pleasant strokes to keep his mind off the intrusion. Leaning back and letting his eyes flutter shut for just a brief second, Connor relaxed and enjoyed the feeling of Haytham’s hands on him. His heels dug into the older man’s back and forced him closer; deeper; and with a growl Haytham complied.  
Connor’s hips jerked up when the other brushed that certain bundle of nerves buried inside of him, and he let out a low moan; pulling himself together to not be pushed over the edge already; however hungry he was for this; he didn’t want it to end just like that. Leaning forward again and catching the other’s lips for a desperate kiss, he rolled his hips and signaled the other it was alright to move; which Haytham did.  
They settled on a rough pace from the beginning; and Connor could hear their sounds and the table’s protesting creaking. He smiled a feral smile as he leaned against Haytham, feeling how beads of sweat ran down his back under his waiter’s uniform; how even the mask clung to his face unpleasantly along with strands of his dark hair.  
He panted frantically, and the noises Haytham made close to his ear were driving him insane with desire; the feeling of actually being taken by him was something far better than anything he had ever dreamed of, or experienced, and something that felt like happiness ran through him.  
When Haytham came with a low growl; arching against the younger man one last time, Connor was finally able to let go, too, and let himself be driven to completion; ruining his waiter’s uniform when he came hard; but not caring one bit about it.  
Panting, they remained for a moment as they were; then Haytham slowly pulled away and leaned down to get rid of the condom, and gather up his pants and pull them on again.  
“I need to see you again.”, Connor said hastily, his heart hurting at the thought of Haytham leaving him already; just wanting to cuddle up close to the other, and never let go of him. Wanting to feel this happiness for just a moment longer; to feel like he belonged to the other; to let himself indulge in the illusion Haytham could somehow care for him as well.  
He got up slowly, also putting on his pants, just so he didn’t feel so naked and vulnerable.  
“You neither want to show me your face, nor tell me your name; but need to see me again?”, Haytham seemed amused; but suddenly grew stern when he noticed the other was serious . “No; I’m sorry, boy, I’m not in for relationships of any sorts; my line of works requires me to be… free of any relations. But who knows; maybe we’ll see each other again.” The last sentence sounded almost sad; as if he wished for it to be true. For one last time, he leaned in again, kissing Connor softly and deeply, cupping his cheek and smiling faintly at him when he pulled away.  
“Goodbye.”  
“Wait”, Connor managed to say before the other had reached the door. “Wait…”  
Haytham hesitated, eventually turning back to face the younger man, who approached him slowly. Connor ignored his weak knees, and reached up to untangle one of the ribbons that held his hair together. He got the red one and held it out to Haytham; his gaze questioningly, even though he wasn’t sure if Haytham could even see his eyes under the mask all too well. The older man sighed softly, a mild smile appearing on his lips. “Go ahead.”, he said, turning around and untying his hair from the black ribbon, so Connor could put in the red one, which the younger man did; a bittersweet feeling accompanying his movements; hoping that he could at least leave something behind; even the smallest trace meant the world to him; maybe the other would throw it away as soon as he left; but for now, the red ribbon in the other's hair meant everything to Connor.  
“Goodbye.”

 


	2. Strangest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Ziio's violent death things start to get complicated when his father shows up to take him in for some time; and Connor not only recognizes him as the man he has always been looking for; but Haytham's job and Connor's wish for revenge get them in danger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, okay, this turned out muuch longer than I expected it to (hence it took quite some time to finish it). Thank you so much for reading!

Weeks, and then months passed, and Haytham Kenway did not return to the restaurant.  
After their shared night, Connor had been in high spirits for a couple of days; but slowly the feeling of something close to happiness gave place to a certain kind of emptiness; it was as if he had caught only a glimpse of how it could be; how it could feel, and suddenly it felt farer away than ever. He wasn’t denying the longing that accompanied his every thought of Haytham anymore, which made it even more hurtful.  
Every night he went to work with desperate anticipation rushing through him; expecting to see the older man just walk in with his company; and then Connor would, somehow, catch him alone; without a mask; tell the other his name; and maybe that would be all the other needed to change his mind. He wasn’t even begging for a relationship in general; he just wanted to see him again; and be close to him again. Everybody got lonely sometimes; and there was nothing more that Connor wished for than for Haytham to turn to him when that happened.  
However, Mr Haytham Kenway did not come back to the restaurant ever again.

After some time, Connor tried to pick up his Monday night routine; searching for someone to ease his longing for at least one night; but now, after he had been with the real object of his desire, none of the replacements worked, and after several disappointing experiences, Connor stopped going out on Mondays entirely; spending the evening at home and trying to study for school - which he thought about quitting; only attending because his mother insisted on it.

It was January – three months before Connor would turn eighteen – and he was slowly getting more and more frustrated with his life; school was not working out, which caused constant fights with his mother, and he hadn’t seen Haytham in almost half a year; and he started to wonder if he would ever see him again. On top of that, he had lost the blue ribbon he had held dear after his night with Haytham; desperately hoping the other might have kept the red one. He had dreamed about walking through Boston with the blue ribbon in his dark hair; and suddenly a familiar voice calling out for him; Haytham having recognized him; having searched for him (which was the weakest part of the dream, since he would only have to come back to the restaurant); and then the other would just pull him into a kiss…  
Nothing like it happened; and Connor had to deal with the idea that Haytham truly didn’t care for him; didn’t want to see the waiter again.  
And even though he had a name to work with now; there was no one to be found with that in the telephone book or anywhere else he had started looking for it; and there he stood; right in front of a whole lot of nothingness.

Then, one cold day, his life changed once more forever; it was the day his mother died.  
In the afternoon, shortly before he headed out to work, the doorbell rang and Connor got up to answer it, for his mother was still out; getting groceries and running some errands he didn’t know any details of.  
Three men were standing in front of him as he opened the door; one of them holding up some police ID that seemed legit; saying, “Lee, with the Boston PD. Is your mother at home?”  
Connor just raised his brows; crossing his arms and looking at the three of them. “Why?”  
“We just need to talk to her.”, Lee said, getting some chewing gum with bright green wrapping paper out of his pocket, smiling slyly before unwrapping it and putting it into his mouth.  
“No, she’s not; you’ve to come back some other time.”  
Nodding, the three men thanked him and left. Connor looked after them with an odd feeling; closing the door eventually and pushing the occurrence aside while getting ready for work.

He came back home late, for things at the restaurant had been stressful and he had helped clean up a mess in the kitchen even after his regular shift was over.  
The wind was blowing cold while he was slowly walking home, and he pulled his coat tighter around his body; sighing and trying to come up with any uplifting thought at all, but failed to do so. When he rounded the corner to their small house, he saw Lee and the other two men just leave the alley. Connor narrowed his eyes; looking after them once more; wondering what the hell they had been doing so late, and why they wanted to talk to his mother so eagerly. Planning on asking her, he entered the silent apartment.  
“I’m back.”, he called out, still seeing light in the kitchen, and figuring his mother hadn’t headed to bed just yet; probably delayed by the policemen’s visit.  
“What was this whole thing with the police about? They came by earlier, asking for you.”, he said, loud enough for her to hear him, while he kicked off his shoes and got rid of the coat. Still, there was no answer.

Everything after that was a blur.  
Later, he couldn’t remember how he had gotten into the kitchen; how he had knelt down beside his mother. The only thing he had clearly in mind was him cradling her and calling out her name, even though she was already dead.  
He faintly remembered screaming for help; his voice desperate, raw; until one of the neighbors showed up and apparently called the police, who showed up some time afterwards – how long he was kneeling on the bloody kitchen floor, Connor didn’t know, all sense for time was somehow lost, and he just clutched onto his mother’s body until it was torn from his arms.

He couldn’t recall how he had come to the police station; suddenly lethargic and shivering; confused and hurt. They questioned him over and over, and he told his story again and again; his voice rough from screaming, quiet from grief.  
Someone helped him clean the blood off his hands; but stains on his clothes remained, and while he sat on a bench in the hallway, he looked down on them with a horrified look on his face; still not quite understanding what had happened, and what was going on.

They said they would bring his father in, so he could take care of Connor; and he mutely awaited the arrival of a man he had never met; a man he had no interest in staying with; someone who never even made an effort to talk to him.  
However, he was a hard man to find, and Connor waited hour after hour; sitting on the bench, not being able to sleep, not being able to shut off his spinning mind; tears welling up from time to time when he realized that Ziio was dead.

It was already morning, and faint sunlight made its way through the milky windows of the station when Connor heard someone enter the hallway with slow footsteps; other than the few policemen who hurried through the narrow hall; determined and knowing where they were headed. This person, however, hesitated after entering, and when Connor looked up, his heart stopped for a moment.  
Haytham Kenway stood there, grey eyes resting on him; and for a moment Connor was convinced he had fallen asleep on that bench; and was currently dreaming.  
He staggered to his feet, not even thinking about what he was doing; hurrying toward the other and flinging his arms around him; pressing his face to Haytham’s shoulder and breathing in the vaguely familiar scent.  
“Haytham…”, he breathed out, trying not to tremble; trying to hold back the tears that once more wanted to well up. Then he slowly pulled away, just enough to look at the other. “What are… what are you doing here?”  
He wondered whether or not the other recognized him; as the boy from the parade, or as the waiter from the party; or both.  
The older man seemed slightly surprised about the welcome, and didn’t quite return the embrace, just resting a hand on Connor’s shoulder. “I’m here for you.”, he said, and at first a feeling of something like happiness flooded through Connor; thinking that somehow Haytham had known who he was; and was here after his mother’s death to comfort him –  
“Didn’t they tell you?”  
And suddenly it struck Connor; suddenly he understood.

Blood drained from his face and he stumbled back as if he had been slapped; he felt dizzy and nauseous; looking mortified at Haytham; with a sudden burst of shame hoping - praying, the other did indeed not know he had been the waiter, did not recall them having spent the night together like that.  
He could feel Haytham’s prying eyes on him; and he tried to swallow; tried to breathe. Instead, he felt his father’s strong hand helping him back to the bench, where he slumped down; not knowing what to say or feel. With a burning shame he looked up; searching for a sign that Haytham _knew_ but couldn’t find any. In that moment he decided to never tell the older man about - to never ever even think about that certain night; about these years of longing; these years of replacing the strange man with others. And even then he knew he wouldn’t be able to forget; wouldn’t be able to shake the obsession that had taken over such a huge part of his life.  
Haytham said a few words, but they didn’t quite reach Connor; who believed the other said his condolences; said something else; maybe something about the day of the parade, or maybe it was something different entirely. Connor just sat there mutely, not feeling his heart beating, not feeling his lungs breathing, not hearing a word of the other man’s words.  
But when Haytham turned around, a sudden rush of alertness shot through the young man, and he made a startled noise, reaching out for the older man. “Don’t- Don’t go.”, he said, his voice raw and quiet.  
Turning around again, Haytham looked at him with an almost soft expression. “I just told you – I’m just signing some papers. I’ll be back in a moment.”  
Connor swallowed and nodded, looking after the other in some sort of trance; still refusing to fully understand what he gotten himself into.

When they were sitting in Haytham’s rental car, Connor couldn’t even recall entering it; couldn’t recall getting up from the bench and accompanying the other outside. He turned his head to look at Haytham, clenching his fists in his lap, while trying to sort through the mess in his heart; his mother’s death weighing on his shoulders like a physical mass he could feel forcing him down; the realization that he had had sex with his father adding to the turmoil in his mind; and mingled with shame and fear, he still felt that intense longing; sitting close to the older man; being in his mere presence after dreaming so many years about it still confused him.  
After a moment, he realized that Haytham had asked a question and looked at him with raised brows. “Huh?”, Connor breathed out, trying to concentrate on the other’s words.  
“Where should I drop you off?”  
“Drop me…?” Connor looked at him; his confusion audible in his voice and visible in his eyes; his hands wandering up his arms to hug himself tightly. “I thought…”, he started, but had to swallow because his voice left him. “I thought you’d… take me with you.”  
He hated the way it sounded; how helpless, infantile and needy; but in his desperation he couldn’t afford pretending to be strong.  
Shaking his head, Haytham sighed. “No. That is out of the question.”  
For a moment, there was silence, and Connor could hear his blood rushing through his ears loudly; drowning out every other sound. “Why?”, he heard himself ask amidst the silence, piercing it like a desperate cry for help.  
It took Haytham a moment to answer, and he averted his gaze from Connor to look at the parking lot in front of them. It was cold in the car, and he fumbled with the fabric of his thick black coat.  
For a moment, Connor expected him to say something about that one night; to tell him he couldn’t stay with him, because they had fucked; because Connor was in love with him; was obsessed with him, but nothing of the like came. Instead, Haytham just let out another sigh; eventually saying, “You’d just be in the way. I have no-“  
“Please”, Connor interrupted him; feeling how tears quietly streamed down his face. “Please don’t send me away. My mother died, and I don’t know where to go.”  
Haytham continued to stare out of the windshield; his jaw clenched and his hands resting in his lap; looking as if he was pondering over Connor’s pleas. Eventually, to Connor it felt like hours had passed, Haytham looked at him from the corner of his eyes, reaching out to start up the car.  
“Very well.”, he said quietly. “You can stay for a few days, but I expect you to not be in my way, and do as I say.”  
Nodding, Connor buckled up and wiped away the tears, still feeling a lump in his throat; still feeling a slight tremble to all his movements, not even knowing whether it was because he had lost his mother, or had found his father.

To his surprise Haytham parked the car in front of a Motel; which at least explained why it had been so hard to track him down; and why Connor hadn’t found him in the telephone book. They got out of the car, and the young man followed his father to one of the Motel’s cabins; which turned out to be one large room and a tiny bathroom.  
There was only a bed, an armchair, a table with two wooden chairs, a nightstand and a TV in the room, and Connor looked at the older man questioningly.  
“I was planning on moving to a different Motel tomorrow anyways.”, Haytham remarked while pulling off his coat and draping it over one of the chairs. “You can either have your own room for that one night, or sleep here. I am not using the bed, so you might as well take it.”  
Only now Connor realized how tired he was, and he just shook his head, needing a moment to actually form the words in his mind. “No, I don’t need my own room for one night.”  
Nodding absent-mindedly, Haytham gestured toward it. “You look tired. Try to find some sleep.”  
Mutely following the other’s advice, Connor just took off the bloodstained jacket and his shoes, crawling onto the bed and slipping beneath the thin blanket, vaguely wishing it would smell like Haytham which it didn’t.

Surprisingly enough, he almost instantly fell asleep and only awoke several hours later in the afternoon. For a moment he was confused to wake up in a strange bed, and it took him a moment to recall what had happened on the previous day; causing his stomach to flip and he choked back a strangled sound that wanted to escape his lips.  
He looked around and saw Haytham sitting at the small table, being busy with something that Connor only recognized as a gun after staring at it for a few minutes. With widened eyes he watched the other; his knowing movements that apparently cleaned the weapon and put its pieces together again afterwards. Haytham's glance wandered up and met with Connor’s; causing the young man to flinch.  
“I’ve somewhere to go soon.”, the older man patiently, loading the gun and putting it away. “There’s a diner down the street. Get something to eat, even if you don’t feel like it.”  
He pulled out some money and placed it onto the table while he got up, reaching for his coat. Connor could see the holstered gun, and wondered what exactly it was that Haytham had to do.  
Before Haytham had reached the door to leave, a small voice reached him, “Wait.”  
For a moment, the older man froze, then he turned around, looking at Connor blankly.  
“You are coming back, aren’t you?”, the young man asked quietly, the lump in his throat making it hard to talk.  
“Yes.”

Connor curled up in the bed, wishing he could just go back to a dreamless sleep; not think about anything that had happened during the past day, not wanting to feel anything.  
But he was wide awake now; thinking about everything, and feeling everything at once. After a while he got up, staggering toward the shower and slowly washing off the last remnants of blood, before he had to put on his old clothes again; not having anything else to dress with. Sooner or later he would have to stop by his mother’s place to pick up some of his clothes, if the police would let him do that. For now, he tried to hide the bloodstains as good as possible, but it didn’t work out too well.  
Taking the money and a set of keys that apparently belonged to the room and were placed right beside the twenty dollar bill, he left the motel, slowly heading down the street toward the diner. Even though he didn’t feel like eating anything; or even getting out of bed, he did as his father had told him, not wanting to anger him right away.  
He sat down in a booth at the diner’s; ordering lemonade and just now realizing he would have to quit his job at the restaurant. After all, there was no reason to be there anymore.  
Calling from the diner, he told his boss he wouldn’t come back; hanging up right away, not caring for his response.  
When he sat back down again, the lemonade awaited him and he took a sip, suddenly feeling thirsty and recalling he hadn’t had anything to drink for the whole night and day.  
In his mind, a vortex of thoughts consumed him; and the worst thing was that he still couldn’t shake the feeling of attraction toward his father.

When it got dark, Connor still sat in the diner, having a third glass of lemonade and staring outside into the dark, twirling the glass in his hands.  
“May I?”, a familiar voice reached him as if from far away. He looked up to see his father standing beside the booth, and again, his heart jumped at the mere sight of him. Since he couldn’t bring out any words, he just nodded, and Haytham sat down on the bench opposite to him.  
“Have you eaten something?”  
Connor shook his head slowly, and Haytham ordered something right away, while the young man tried to keep his gaze fixed out of the window; however, his eyes returned to Haytham; quietly savoring seeing him; talking to him; just being around him as he had wished to do for long years.  
While they were waiting for the waitress to bring the pancakes Haytham had ordered for Connor, the older man eventually cleared his throat and said, “I’m sorry, Ratonhnhaké:ton.”  
Connor wasn’t even sure what the other apologized for, and he only answered weakly, “Nobody calls me that anymore. Connor. Everybody just calls me Connor.”  
“Connor.”, Haytham repeated, as if he had to get used to the sound of it.  
The young man looked up at the other, who stared out of the window, and for a moment Connor felt like someone had pulled the rug from under his feet, and he was tumbling down; his heart fluttering in his chest. The _red ribbon_. Haytham was still wearing the red ribbon from that 4th of July.  
Swallowing hard, he was talking before he even thought about whether it was a good idea or not to actually bring this up. “When I was a child, you had a black ribbon.”  
Turning back to face Connor, Haytham raised his brows slightly; a mild smile appearing on his lips. “So you do recall seeing me.”  
If only you knew, Connor thought; how I have longed for you; searched for you; replaced you throughout lonely months and years; how I have yearned for your touch; how my happiest memory is you kissing me; taking me on that shitty little table back in the locker room.  
Not voicing any of this, Connor just nodded, his cheeks burning with shame; wishing Haytham would say something about the new ribbon; would give him a hint whether or not he remembered that night. But he didn’t, and Connor didn’t dare to ask again.  
When the pancakes were brought to the table, Connor stared at them for a couple of minutes; feeling rather nauseous, but he felt the other’s gaze upon him, and managed to take a few bites, which took him long minutes to gulp down.  
Apparently satisfied, Haytham paid and they left the diner, slowly making their way back toward the motel.

Planning on returning home on the next day to grab a few necessary things like clothing and a toothbrush, Connor went to bed that night, while Haytham insisted on sleeping on the armchair; claiming he did that anyways, which seemed to be true, since the bed didn’t smell like him and had been undisturbed when Connor had crawled into it in the morning.  
Connor was still, or again, tired, and had stripped down to his underwear, not having any sleeping clothes at hand yet.  
Lying there in a soft twilight with dim light making its way inside from the streetlamps in front of the motel, Connor watched his father’s silhouette in the armchair, wondering if one could really sleep like that regularly.  
And even though he tried to shoo away the many fantasies that had accumulated in his mind, and had accompanied many nights, they relentlessly returned to him now; being so close to the object of these very dreams and images; and he helplessly felt blood rush south.  
Shifting and trying to ignore his half-hard cock, Connor wished he could just turn all these memories and feelings off; now that he knew Haytham was his father, he couldn’t indulge in them anymore.  
His body, however, didn’t seem to agree, and craved for his touch; filling his mind with pleasant memories and images, first of all that night in which Haytham had taken him; had lifted him onto the small table as if he weighed nothing; had fucked and kissed him, better than any fantasy or replacement could ever be; how his hands had felt on him, hungrily mapping out his body; how his lips had tasted; and how he had sounded as he had come buried inside the younger man.  
Biting down hard on his knuckles, Connor reached down; his eyes fixed upon his father, listening closely to his breath and surveying if there was any sign of him waking up.  
Giving his cock long strokes and curling his hand around it pleasantly, he pushed up into the tight curl of his fist; muffled, soft sounds still leaving his throat, even though he choked back the moans that wanted to leave his lips along with his father’s name.  
Feeling the sting of his teeth leaving their imprints on his hand as he came, Connor’s eyes fluttered shut for a moment, and he hoped the noise that had left his mouth had been much quieter on the outside than it had sounded in his ears.  
Haytham seemed still asleep, and Connor thanked heavens for that. Pushing off his stained boxershorts and wiping his hand clean on them, he carelessly kicked them away, not minding sleeping naked since the blanket would cover him. He only wished for clean clothes to be able to put on in the morning; knowing he had none yet.

On the next day they changed motels just as Haytham had said they would. He had only two suitcases, and he was kind enough to drop Connor off at his mother’s place to collect some clothes from his room, while Haytham waited in the car.  
A policeman guarded the apartment, and Connor asked if there were any news regarding the case. “Looks like a robbery gone wrong.”, the man said, and Connor only shook his head in disbelief, unable to say another word.  
When he was in his room, everything seemed different now; as if he had lived there in another life; which already seemed far away. Deliberately taking a different backpack from that one he had once used to take to work and which Haytham had seen that certain night, Connor packed a few things, and finally was able to change into fresh clothing.

When Connor left the apartment a while later, Haytham was still waiting patiently in the car; raising his brows when the young man sat down; hands slightly trembling and his face pale.  
On their way to a new Motel, none of them spoke a word, and Connor was apathetically staring out of the windshield; his eyes filled with tears that didn’t fall, while he held onto the backpack like a child cradling its favorite stuffed animal in times of worry.  
He followed at Haytham’s heel when the older man entered the motel’s lobby. Only when his father was about to book two rooms, it was that Connor snapped momentarily out of his apathy, suddenly alerted and stepping forward toward the older man, saying with a quiet, trembling voice, “Father, please, let me stay with you; I don’t need my own room.”  
Turning around, Haytham arched a brow whilst the receptionist looked from one to the other and then shrugged. With a sigh, Haytham looked at him scrutinizing, and after a moment he seemed to have come to a decision.

Their room was slightly bigger than the last one they had occupied for a night; however, it wasn’t much more appealing than the previous one.  
After they had settled in, Connor sat down at the small table by the window; looking through the thin curtains into the night. Haytham had brought him something to eat, but he hadn’t touched it yet.  
“I know who killed my mother.”, he said after a while; his voice almost inaudible.  
Haytham stopped what he was doing and came over, sitting down opposite to Connor and eyeing him expectant, giving the other time to think about what he had just said.  
“I know it.”, Connor repeated hoarsely, averting his gaze to look at his father. After a moment of silence had passed, the young man’s lips opened to let out a flood of words; telling Haytham everything that had happened on the day he had found Ziio; only leaving out the information where he exactly he had been working.  
And then, taking a deep breath and looking down on his hands, he added, “When I grabbed some clothes today… I couldn’t help but… stop by the kitchen, where I found her. There was… the blood was still everywhere and it was so… I don’t know how long I stood there. And… then I saw the paper. You know? The… wrapping paper. That bright green chewing gum wrapping paper that detective had. It was lying there in the… in her blood. It was stained; but not as if the blood had spilled over it; it must have fallen into it when it was still… when… it was fresh. I just don’t know why. I don’t know… why they killed her. The police officer I saw in front of the building today said it was a robbery gone wrong; which makes no sense. They were there; and why wouldn’t they say it? They’d only lie to hide something; and… and that paper…”  
By now, tears were silently flowing again; and Connor wiped them away angrily, feeling Haytham’s eyes resting on him. The older man had listened to him without uttering a word for the whole time, and Connor eventually looked up.  
“You’re a hitman. The gun… the motels…”  
Haytham just raised a brow, as if he was saying, ‘So what?’, and Connor shifted in the chair; hands clutching onto the table.  
“You need to train me.”  
“I don’t think so.”, Haytham remarked and it was the first thing he had been saying the whole evening.  
“They just killed her! I can’t just do nothing about it; they killed her; they shot her in the head. Don’t you care one bit? Have you ever cared about us at all? If you care, one tiny bit, then you must train me; I swear – I swear I will find someone who will show me how to fire a gun; that will be enough to go in there; to go… to go to that man and… and kill him. To get him to confess that he murdered her... just tell me why… I swear I will… I will find someone who will train me… Please… please, father…”  
Sobs interrupted his angry words; taking the fieriness out of his words and the edge off his threats. For the second time that day he had called the other ‘father’, and he didn’t even notice how easily it slipped off his tongue; how much he tried to avoid that spell of calling him ‘Haytham’; a name he had softly said to himself so many times that there was something intense about even saying his name…  
Shaking his head, Haytham looked at him rather annoyed, crossing his arms to either stress his anger, or to prevent himself from reaching out to comfort the young man.  
“I will train you under one condition.”, he said and his voice sounded harsh. “You have to promise me not to run off and go after that man once you know how to handle a gun. We will talk about this again once you are a bit more experienced; but you will not, I repeat, under any circumstances just go after that detective. Understood?”  
Clenching his jaw, and feeling how a gleam returned to his eyes, Connor nodded.

Weeks of training passed; Ziio’s apartment was sold, and Connor got rid of his car since he didn’t need it anymore.  
It got harder and harder for Connor to ignore his feelings for the older man; regardless of him being his father. They changed motels from time to time; but their routine changed little: In the morning they would go for a run; Haytham would teach him a few basic defensive moves and they would have breakfast together. In the afternoon, it was all about guns; and after a few weeks, Connor was able to disassemble one, clean it, and put it together again. He learned that one of Haytham’s two suitcases contained different guns and other weapons; he learned how to use a rifle and a handgun; learned the differences between the weapons; and still, the hardest part of every day was to endure being close and closer to the older man; unable to reach out, to wrap his arms around him, pull him into a kiss and pleasure him.

Then, one day, he got home from buying some groceries while Haytham had been on one of his missions. Connor saw the car parked in front of the motel they were currently staying at upon his return, and his heart made a tiny jump; happy that his father was back already. He entered their room and put the bags down. When he was about to shout out for Haytham, he spotted one of his father’s white shirts on the floor; torn on the left shoulder; bloodstained and dirty.  
“Father… _Haytham!_ ”, he breathed out terrified; hurrying into the bathroom without even bothering to knock, or noticing the sound of the shower running; vaguely recalling that this motel’s inner doors didn’t close all too well even if one decided to try and lock them.  
However, instead of finding the other bloody and injured crouching on the floor, Haytham was showering, and only a faint cut was to be seen where the shirt had been torn. The older man was leaning against the tiles while the steaming hot water rushed over him; his grey hair spilling over his shoulders while a hand palmed his flushed cock, running over it; stroking it slowly. Haytham opened his eyes lazily as Connor stormed into the tiny bathroom, and while the younger man’s eyes widened and his lips went dry at the sight; Haytham just raised a brow, seemingly amused. “Have you forgotten how to knock?”, he asked huskily, and Connor couldn’t help but shudder.  
“I… I thought… you are hurt!”, he stuttered, unable to tear his gaze from the other’s body.  
“’Tis but a scratch.”, Haytham breathed out, but when Connor didn’t seem to recognize or appreciate the quote, he sighed, adding, “Let me finish my shower, will you?”  
Swallowing hard, Connor let his gaze once more roam over Haytham’s exposed body; quite shamelessly taking in the sight before he was able to tell his feet to turn around.

In the evenings, they often went to nearby diners; and that very evening they were sitting quietly in their shared booth opposite of each other; Connor’s gaze shyly averted to look out of the window, while Haytham looked musingly through the diner’s interior; waiting for their order to arrive.  
“Why did you quit your job at the restaurant?”, Haytham asked after long minutes of silence had passed, and Connor looked at him blankly; not recalling to ever tell him about where he had worked.  
“How do you know I’ve worked at a restaurant?”, he asked; his voice wavering just a tiny bit because if Haytham would ever find out where exactly he had worked, he would be able to draw the connection to that young waiter in a heartbeat…  
“Your mother told me.”, Haytham answered mildly; his grey eyes resting on the other now, watching him closely as Connor shifted uncomfortable on his seat.  
“I… I wanted to concentrate on the training.”, Connor lied; having quit his job before he had talked Haytham into training him.  
Nodding, the older man leaned back; however, there was still a thoughtful expression in his eyes; which went unnoticed by Connor, who had to concentrate on not thinking about how Haytham had looked in the shower on that very day.

Time passed fast; and the pain of losing his mother got slowly more bearable; however, his hate demanding revenge never seemed to subside, just as the longing that still accompanied his nights and daydreams; sometimes forcing him to take a cold shower after their physical training; hoping Haytham never noticed the bulge in his pants after especially close moves; hoping he never heard his soft sounds in the night; hoping he never made the connection between the young waiter and Connor. And still; his frustration only grew; his want only fueled by them living together like this.  
Haytham had never mentioned sending him away again, and Connor didn’t dare to ask if he was allowed to stay even after his training; not even knowing if he wanted to. He both couldn’t live with Haytham like this, and couldn’t live without him anymore.  
Some nights he stayed awake for long hours, tossing and turning in the bed, trying to come up with an alternate idea how to resolve the whole problem, but coming up with none; most nights just ending up pleasuring himself as quietly as possible because he couldn’t take his thoughts off Haytham, and how desperately Connor wanted to be with him.

Then his birthday came, and he went out for the first time since he had been staying with his father.  
The day had started early as usual; and for the first hours of day, Connor was convinced Haytham didn’t know it was his birthday. They went for a run like every other day, and trained after breakfast. However, when Connor returned to their shared room after having taken a shower, he found Haytham sitting at the table; a small box in front of him.  
It was time for their weapon training; and Connor eyed the box suspiciously as he took a seat at the table. Sliding the box closer to the other, Haytham leaned back, crossing his arms and looking at Connor with a veiled expression in his grey eyes.  
“What’s this?”, the young man asked; however, already opening the cardboard box to find out. It turned out to be a gun he hadn’t seen in Haytham’s arsenal yet.  
“Your birthday present.”, the older man growled pleasantly, and Connor looked up; cheeks reddening a bit, just because the other knew what day it was, and had cared enough to get him a birthday present, which, that was for sure, had been expensive.  
“It’s a SIG PRO SPC 2022; a smaller version of the SIG PRO. 9mm semi-automatic, 15 rounds…”, Haytham began, recounting technical information of the weapon and Connor listened absent-mindedly, taking the gun in his hands, knowing its force even though it looked small. There was no doubt why Haytham would give it to him, and he nodded once the other had stopped talking. “Thank you.”, Connor said, looking up, and wishing he could press just the smallest kiss to the other’s lips.

He hadn’t seen Desmond in months, and when Connor called him in the afternoon, the other seemed pleasantly surprised. They agreed on meeting up around seven, and when Connor left, Haytham was going through his suitcase of weapons; not looking up when the young man closed the door. He hadn’t said anything when Connor had announced that he would be going out, and somehow the young man had been disappointed; maybe wanting Haytham to say they could celebrate in their room; just the two of them…

It was already past midnight when Connor opened the door of the Motel room with uncoordinated movements; he was drunk and frustrated. The whole evening had reminded him of the past years, in which he hadn’t known who Haytham really was; in which he had hooked up with older men more often, at least being able to keep the frustration down by being with someone and pretending it was the one he wanted to be with. But the months he had spent with Haytham had been the most frustrating in his young life; overshadowed by his mother’s death, and the feeling of being completely alone, even though the person he longed to be with was just an arm’s length away.  
Since they usually got up rather early and hence headed to bed early as well, Connor was surprised to see Haytham sitting at the table when he returned to their room; a small lamp being the only source of light for the older man, who apparently was busy with looking over groundplans of a building; which he put away when Connor entered.  
“You waited for me?”, Connor breathed out, a crooked grin on his face; frustration and liquid courage loosening his tongue. He leaned against the closed door for a moment and then approached the other, who eyed him with a vaguely annoyed expression.  
“No, I simply had something to do.”, Haytham replied, crossing his arms and looking up at Connor, who stood by the table, fiddling with the sleeves of his shirt.  
“Were you worried?”  
Haytham looked at him blankly, eventually saying, “You are drunk.”  
“Were you jealous? No, I mean… would you be jealous when I told you I hooked up with someone? Someone older than me; old enough to be my f-"  
Frowning, Haytham got to his feet, standing only a few feet away from Connor, who didn’t think about backing away; forgetting his caution; his frustration audible in every word.  
“Stop this nonsense. Go to bed. Sleep it off.”, the older man said.  
But Connor couldn’t stop himself anymore; couldn’t stop the words pouring desperately from his lips. “I didn’t, though, I didn’t… not that I didn’t want to There was this nice enough man, who seemed interested… He had this British drawl that reminded me of-”  
With a growl, Haytham took a step forward, and Connor stepped back. “ _Connor._ ”, the older man said warningly.  
And even though his voice had become small, Connor continued to talk. “I think I would’ve let him _fuck_ me; like a birthday present to myself; just close my eyes and pretend-”  
Before the young man could finish the sentence, Haytham grabbed him by the collar and slammed him against the wall behind him; letting out another exasperated growl; his face inches from Connor’s apart.  
“I _know_ , Connor; I know who you are.”  
All of a sudden, the young man felt quite sober again; his heart missing a beat as he felt blood drain from his face. And even though he very well knew what his father was talking about, he croaked out, “What…?”  
“I knew it the moment we met in the police station; your voice and physique gave it away. The one thing I just couldn’t figure out, though, was the question whether or not you knew I was your father back at the party. You said yourself you remember me from when you were younger…”  
“I didn’t know!”, Connor squeaked hastily, his dark eyes filling with tears of helplessness; his mind spinning. Haytham would send him away; with that knowledge and Connor’s behavior this evening, Haytham would send him away for sure.  
“ _You didn’t know._ ”, Haytham repeated, eyes narrowed. “But _now_ you do. And still…”  
“I’m sorry; I just… I had too much to drink today; I didn’t know what I was saying…”, Connor breathed out desperately; wishing he had just shut his mouth; had just gone straight to bed or not out at all.  
“I am not talking about your _improvidence_ right now; I am talking about each and every night you whispered my name while jerking off; I am talking about you getting hard from our physical training; I am talking about every longing gaze I could feel burning on my skin.”  
Letting out a whimper, Connor wished the earth would open up under his feet and swallow him whole; wishing Haytham would be able to forget everything he had just told him he knew about. “I’m… I’m sorry…”, he whispered, feeling mortified and helpless. “Please… please don’t send me away. I swear, I’ll… I’ll…”  
“You what? Stop this? And I am supposed to believe that, after you just showed how well you can handle yourself?”  
Connor didn’t answer, and only a strangled sob disrupted the silence that followed after Haytham’s grave words.  
“You know who I am to you; and still…”, Haytham said lowly, as if he still couldn't quite believe it.  
“I’m sorry…”, Connor repeated, looking at his father’s face that was still so close that he could just lean in and kiss him; something he was longing to do for months now. Maybe he would have done it; but before he could make up his mind, Haytham pulled away and left Connor leaning against the cold wall; his heart still racing in his chest.  
“No”, he whispered, when Haytham turned away, and his father stopped; turning to face the other again.  
“No”, Connor repeated; guessing it didn’t matter anymore. If he had to go, he could at least let go of everything he had always wanted to tell the other. “I wouldn’t stop. I… I really didn’t know… didn’t know you were my father that day. But it was no coincidence I was at the restaurant; no coincidence I followed you around.”  
Haytham’s expression was blank, but Connor believed to see a spark of surprise in the grey eyes, and he continued, “I was _fascinated_ by you, ever since I saw you as a boy. I couldn’t get you out of my head; and after that parade, where you helped me get back to mother, I wanted to see you again. I _dreamed_ about you; how your arms had felt around me, even though I hated everyone else’s touch. Then, one day… I saw you enter that restaurant; and since I couldn’t just follow you, I started to work there; hoping to see you again. And every time you were there, so was I; watching you from the kitchen and trying to come up with a way to talk to you; unsure whether or not you would remember me.”  
He swallowed heavily; feeling how blood rushed back to his cheeks; blinking away the tears that had lingered on his eyelashes. “I started seeing men; I started looking for men that resembled you. And then… that 4th of July… The mask gave me enough courage to approach you; to follow you around without you recognizing me as Ziio’s boy.”  
Pausing again, his eyes darted to the floor; memories of how Haytham had felt like under his touch suffusing his thoughts distractingly. “When you came to get me after mother’s death, I didn’t know what to do. I thought my feelings would go away, now that I knew you were my father, but… they didn’t.”  
He looked up again; his dark eyes filled with defiance and determination. “I wish I could promise you I would stop, but I can’t. I suppose it doesn’t matter. I’ll leave. I was hoping you wouldn’t notice until it would go away; I’m… I’m sorry. Thank you for everything, father.” His voice trailed off, and he felt a lump in his throat keeping him from saying anything else. - there wasn't anything to add; now he had told him everything, and would accept the other’s rejection.  
There was something feral in Haytham’s eyes, and as he came closer, Connor for a moment feared that the other might hit him. During his training, his father had often been impatient with him, but his annoyance had never shown in a violent way. Now, the young man flinched as Haytham once more stood before him; averting his gaze to the floor once more; awaiting a blow that never came.  
Instead, he could feel a finger lifting up his chin, and Haytham said, “ _You are serious._ ” And even though it wasn’t a question, it very much sounded like one.  
“Yes”, Connor breathed out, but before the word had really left his lips, Haytham pressing against him; kissing him softly. For a moment the young man was too surprised to react; then he hungrily returned the kiss; his hands still pressed against the wall with flat palms; afraid to let them loose.  
Pulling back just slightly, Haytham took a deep breath; his lips still touching Connor’s, who softly said, “Please…”  
He didn’t finish the plea, but all unanswered begs were faintly audible in this one word – _please_ , kiss me again, don’t send me away, let me be with you, take me, fuck me.  
And as if to answer each and every one of those begs, the other closed the small gap between them once more, and kissed him again. This time, Connor was able to truly savor the feeling of their lips and tongues moving against each other, and he reached up to pull Haytham closer; who complied eagerly to the hands tugging at his waist; pressing the young man against the wall; a leg shifting between Connor’s.  
“Is this why you’ve been following me around?”, Haytham repeated those words from such a long, distant time ago as they broke from the kiss, and Connor’s answer was a shaky, disbelieving laugh. “Yes”, he breathed out longingly; “yes.” Vaguely, he realized that maybe; just maybe; he hadn’t been the only one to keep those memories safe; to savor them every day, and just maybe it hadn’t been a coincidence that Haytham had kept the ribbon after all.  
“Fuck me.”, Connor said once again, but this time it was him who shuddered upon hearing his own words, while the other’s lips trailed over his cheek and jaw; down to his neck and collar bone.  
“Cutting right to the chase, are we?”, he could hear Haytham say, a hint of amusement to his tone, while the older man’s hands ran hungrily over Connor’s body, eventually slipping under his shirt and trailing the curves and lines of his back and chest, pulling him away from the wall just slightly. The movement toward the other caused Connor to let out a soft moan, caused by the friction of his half-hard cock rubbing against Haytham’s leg which was still situated against his crotch, and the other seemed to enjoy Connor’s little sound; pressing forward and causing more friction between them.  
Squirming a bit, Connor let out a shaky breath; savoring each and every touch; still quite disbelieving how it had even led to this; what had changed his father’s mind about it. He had to bite back words that wanted to flood over his lips; words of how much he had wished for this, how much he had desired this; their bodies flushed against each other and Haytham’s determined hands on him again.

He wasn’t even sure how they had made it to the bed; the only thing he was aware of was that he had lost some pieces of his clothing on the way; and that Haytham’s hands and lips never seemed to have left his body. The older man was leaning over him now; dominant as ever, peeling back the last layers of Connor’s underwear and taking in the sight that presented itself to him. Connor swallowed, feeling awkwardly exposed all of a sudden, but it didn’t lessen his arousal; maybe even added to it.  
“ _Haytham…_ ”, he let out, unable to keep the questioning tone from his voice; why? Why now? What changed?  
The older man bent down to press a kiss to his neck; a rough kiss with teeth raking over the soft skin as he bit down, having Connor breath out a soft sound of pleasure and surprise. When Haytham spoke, Connor shuddered under the hot breath that rolled over his abused skin. “I didn’t know you are this serious about… it. About _this._ ”, he said, his voice barely audible.  
“There’s nothing I _ever_ was so sure about.”, Connor replied breathlessly; ignoring how cheesy it sounded since it was true. All those years of vague obsession; of unfulfilled longing and searching…  
Haytham was still wearing his pants and undershirt, and Connor tugged at it almost shyly; wanting to feel the other close and closer; skin on skin. Making a low noise of approval, Haytham pulled off his shirt, and Connor proceeded to open the other’s pants; weirdly satisfied when he ran his fingers over their bulging front; chasing away a soft moan from the older man’s lips.  
Once Haytham had pulled down his pants and let them carelessly pool on the floor beside the bed, he crawled over Connor, leaning in for another greedy kiss, which the young man gladly returned, equally hungry.  
The other’s hands wandered over Connor’s body exploring; as if retracing invisible paths Haytham had already drawn with his eyes; now savoring them with teasingly slow movements; his fingertips dancing over the bronze skin, and letting Connor arch up into the touch once he had reached the younger man’s cock. Panting slightly, Connor shuddered and his eyes fluttered shut as he whispered, “In my backpack… there… there’s…”  
He could feel Haytham pull back; guessing the other knew what he was talking about, even if he felt too distracted to actually form the words he had wanted to say.  
It took the other a moment to find what Connor had been talking about, but all too soon his hands and lips returned to the younger man’s skin; and Connor let out a shameless moan; desperately longing for every attention the other provided.  
When he could feel a slicked finger press against his entrance, he spread his legs a bit further; letting the other push in and groaning when Haytham moved; toying with his nerves and sending a promise of pleasure through him.  
This time, he didn’t demand more right away; didn’t want to be impatient again, letting Haytham prepare him slowly; properly.  
Connor was heaving under the other’s swift movements; his back arching off the mattress as the other’s fingers pushed in him and found that sweet spot that made him jerk up and let out a strangled, sinfully needy sound; hands grasping the sheets and tugging at them helplessly as he pressed back his head; eyes shut and flushed lips parted.  
“Raké:ni…”, Connor moaned, not consciously slipping into Mohawk; his tongue seemingly unconnected to his brain, which was just flooded with the pleasure rushing through him; unable to properly think anymore. “ _Please…_ ”  
When Haytham pulled away his fingers, Connor let out a frustrated groan, however hoping the other would take him properly now; and he looked at Haytham again; glassy eyes taking in how he looked bent over the young man like this; aroused; his hair coming undone and spilling over his broad shoulders; clinging to his skin and tickling Connor’s face when he leaned in for a kiss.  
“I didn’t find…?”, Haytham asked quietly, brushing a strand of dark hair from Connor’s sweaty forehead, and eyeing the young man with a questioning glance; waiting for approval.  
“It’s alright; isn’t it?”, Connor muttered, locking eyes with the other for a moment.  
Nodding, the older man situated himself between Connor’s knees and ran his slicked fingers over his straining cock; lubing himself up to take the younger man. The sight made Connor swallow; vaguely recalling that one day he had seen Haytham doing something quite similar in the shower; and now he couldn’t help but wonder if the other might have been thinking about him.  
Aligning himself with the younger man’s entrance, Haytham pushed against him; gently taking the other’s legs and placing them up against his shoulders as he sunk in deeper. Connor writhed under him; hands clutching the sheets as he let out low sounds; his toes curling as he could feel Haytham push into him; exceeding every fantasy and every other experience he had had in the last years; and he vaguely heard himself beg for more; not even knowing if he was talking in English or Mohawk. However, Haytham seemed to have understood whatever Connor was begging for; settling on a fast pace from the beginning; pressing the other down and effectively bending him in half as he fucked him.  
Haytham’s body pressed against his’ like this; pushing deep into him with every thrust; the older man’s ragged breath rolling hot over his skin, disrupted by dark and needy moans; every of those tiny sensations made Connor heave and arch; trapped in the other’s arms; squirming in his grip and greedily pushing back against him; rolling his hips in unison with the Haytham’s movements.  
It all added to his pleasure, and once Haytham got the angle right to brush past his prostate, Connor couldn’t hold himself together for long; his head pressing back as he came with a low and feral growl; spilling over their chests and not caring one bit about it.  
Connor could hear the other’s breath hitch as he felt Connor come beneath him; and Haytham’s movements grew more erratic; his grip on the younger man’s hips was harsh as he arched against him a few more times; fucking him through the orgasm until the older man gave a last, pleasured sound and collapsed on top of the other.  
Heavy breathing filled the motionless silence that lasted for a few minutes; then Haytham pulled away and slipped off the other, his eyes closed as he caught his breath.

They didn’t talk much after this; they took a shower together and when they returned to the room, Haytham joined Connor in bed without the younger man having to beg for it. Haytham wrapped his arms around him, and Connor snuggled up close to the other; pleasantly surrounded by his warmth and his scent, vaguely mingled with the scent of sex still lingering in the sheets.  
Connor was awake for some time longer; listening to the other’s breath and feeling Haytham’s heartbeat close to his’. He wondered if the happiness that was suffusing him now could possibly be something to last. Could they really be together like this? Was Haytham really willing to stay with him like this? For Connor it meant everything; and in this moment, for the first time since Ziio had died, he was able to forget his revenge; to forget that he had been willing to give his own life in an attempt to murder the man who had killed his mother. Haytham connected him to something that was willing to live; something that would value his own life higher than getting revenge.

In the morning, Connor woke up with the sounds of Haytham’s suitcase being closed, and suddenly he was wide awake; sitting up in the motel bed and looking around; only slowly reacalling what had happened on the previous evening.  
Haytham was already dressed and had shaved; closing up the suitcase that carried his weapons. He looked up when he noticed Connor being awake, and a mild smile appeared on his lips.  
The young man eyed him anxiously, not daring to move. “Are you leaving? Is it because… because of yesterday?”, Connor asked coarsely, his voice wavering.  
“No” Haytham was quick to answer; getting up and sitting down at the edge of the bed. He pulled Connor into an embrace and kissed the top of his head. “No, Connor, that’s not the reason. I’ve to do something; my job, you know? I’ll be back in the evening; at the latest tomorrow morning.”  
Connor pulled back a bit to eye the other; still not completely convinced and searching for the slightest hint of the other lying.  
As if to answer to those doubts that were still nagging at Connor’s heart, Haytham leaned in for a slow kiss; a hand still resting on the younger man’s neck as he pulled him closer.  
“I don’t regret what we did last night.”, Haytham breathed out once they broke apart, and eventually Connor let out a shaky breath of relief.  
“You are coming back, aren't you?”  
“Yes.”

And Connor waited; busying himself with this and that; going out for a run; dissembling the gun his father had given him for his birthday; cleaning it and putting it together again. All day long, he couldn’t help but return to the previous evening with his thoughts; a smile appearing on his lips whenever he got to the part in which Haytham had kissed him out of the blue.  
He waited. It got evening, and out of nervousness he walked to the nearest diner; getting something to eat and imagining how he would greet the older man once he got home; kiss him; seduce him; savor every moment they could spend together. The hunger he had fostered over all those years wasn’t satisfied yet; and he wanted to tell Haytham how very serious he was about it, and he wanted to tell him that – _that he loved him._  
When he returned to the motel, he was expecting Haytham’s car to be there already, but it wasn’t. Disappointed, he told himself that the older man had said it might get morning until he returned, and so Connor went to bed; tossing and turning; listening to every sound and awaiting the other’s return impatiently.  
He waited. It got morning, but Haytham didn’t return. The hours passed excruciatingly slow; and no matter how much Connor hoped for the motel door to open; it didn’t. And once another lonely night had passed without a sign of Haytham coming back, Connor knew with a weird clarity that he would never return; that he had never intended to come back in the first place.  
Sure, his suitcase with clothing was still there, but that was something easy to acquire anew; Haytham just hadn’t wanted Connor to suspect anything, because he surely would have made a scene; would have tried to keep his father from leaving him.  
Connor hadn’t slept too much during the two nights Haytham had been away, and he hadn’t been able to suppress the tears that came in the dead of night; wetting his cheeks as he realized that he had lost everything that had ever meant something to him.  
And when it got day, he wiped away his tears and came to a decision; knowing he had reached a point of no return.

Two hours later Connor found himself in a cramped room in the Boston police station downtown; waiting for Detective Lee to return to his office. He had told the lady at the front desk that he wanted to talk to someone about his mother’s murder from January, and to his own surprise she had actually led him to Lee’s office; telling him he had handled the case, which was apparently closed by now; a simple robbery gone wrong.  
It took a while until the detective finally entered the office, and Connor had readied himself for that moment. He would most likely end up in jail for killing a policeman, but what did he have to lose? And even if they killed him; he was ready to take that risk.  
The young man pointed the gun directly at the detective, who weirdly enough didn’t seem all too surprised, and closed the door behind himself calmly.  
“Don’t you move!”, Connor said with a growl as Lee wanted to step closer. The policeman raised his hands, a cocky smile on his lips.  
“Connor, isn’t it? I remember your mother’s case –“  
“Admit that you killed her; I need to know why.”, Connor interrupted him harshly; glad that his hand wasn’t shaking as he had been afraid it would. The gun seemed almost small in his hands, but felt as heavy as the young man’s heart.  
“Kill her?”, Lee said, raising his brows and slowly dropping his arms again.  
“I _know_ you killed her; stop the act.” The young man’s voice was but a growl, and for now, he was in control. “I just need to know why. She never did anything; she was a _good_ person.”  
With an amused huff, Lee shook his head. “Ah, so you’re the one who sent that hitman after me, aren’t you?”  
The words felt like a blow to his stomach, and Connor wavered; eventually saying with a shaky voice, “What are you talking about?”  
“The only mistake he made was to ask the very same question as you just did; ask _why._ Had he killed me on instant, he might still be _alive._ “  
“Shut up. _You’re lying._ ”, Connor said with a strangled tone to his voice, taking a step closer and noticing how his hand was trembling now.  
“Am I?”, the detective asked with mockery, gesturing toward his desk. “If that’s the case… why don’t you open the bottom drawer on the right?”  
“Don’t you move!”, Connor ordered desperately, still pointing the gun at the other as he stepped toward the desk and bent down to open the drawer with a trembling hand. Of course Lee was lying; or maybe -- maybe he wasn’t and was talking about someone else entirely. It couldn’t have to do anything with Haytham not returning; he wouldn’t have… _he was fine; just fine._  
There wasn’t much in the bottom drawer, but on top of a few files and some office supplies was a bright red ribbon; crumbled and bloody, but Connor would have recognized it everywhere and in any condition.  
With a whimper he reached out; the sound leaving his throat the one of a hurt animal. When his fingers closed around the fabric of the ribbon, he realized he had lost sight of Lee for too long, but it was already too late. He noticed a fast movement before something hit his head with force, and the last thing he heard before darkness surrounded him was, “Yep; I lied.”

Connor was without orientation when he regained consciousness; his lips felt dry and his head hurt. He opened his eyes slowly; groaning and trying to remember what had happened, and trying to figure out where exactly he was now.  
The room was only dimly lit, and when he wanted to move, he could feel cuffs or similar restraints holding him back, his hands behind his back and somehow tied to the wall, not even allowing him to stand up.  
He swallowed heavily, looking around but not seeing anything else in the small, dirty room, which corners were nothing but shadows. However, when he moved some more, a voice disrupted the heavy silence and made Connor flinch.  
“There you are; hello again.”  
Turning his head toward the direction of the man speaking - who was undoubtedly Detective Lee - all Connor could see was a dark corner, not revealing anything.  
“Where…”, the young man started, but his voice failed him and he cleared his throat, attempting to say something again when Lee spoke, “I couldn’t kill you right at the station, and I’m just a bit curious as to why you are so eager to-”  
“Where is he? Did you kill him?” Connor’s voice was small and shaky, nothing but a hoarse whisper.  
“Who? The hitman? You’re accusing me of killing a whole lot of people; it’s getting more and more.” There was amusement in the detective’s voice, and Connor clenched his jaw, feeling how helplessness and anger made him tremble.  
“No, no… he’s alive, I suppose. Funny thing, actually. He escaped this morning; I was trying to locate him again when you showed up in my office… I thought he wouldn’t get far, regarding the state in which he was in. He just wouldn’t tell me why he was digging into the murder of that Indian woman and what he knows about it; no matter what I did to get him to talk-“  
Struggling against his restraints, Connor howled, “What did you do? _What did you do to him?_ ”  
“Oh, boy. Easy there, no reason to be dramatic. Why did you send him in the first place when he’s so precious to you? Never send a hitman you’re not willing to get killed on the job.”  
“I didn’t send him.”, Connor replied quietly, biting his lip as he tried to calm down; tears stinging in his eyes. He didn’t want to die; not when Haytham was still out there, wanting to return to him; actually having intended to come back after all. Maybe he was hurt and in need of help... Hadn’t Haytham told him to stay put? Not to go after Lee all by himself? Maybe he was just now waiting for him in the motel room; not knowing Connor was here; all alone, chained up and at that man’s mercy…  
“Oh? Interesting. Hm... Now; I gather I could just lock you up for attempted murder, but I’m actually fairly certain that would only encourage you do to stupid things like accusing me of killing your mother. Not that you have any proof whatsoever.”  
With that, he emerged from the shadows and stood before Connor, looking down on the young man with an almost apologetic smile.  
“He’ll get you.”, Connor breathed out, trying to only let his hatred and anger show; not the fear that had a cold, tight grip around his heart.  
“Or I’ll get him. We’ll see.” Lee shrugged and revealed the gun he was carrying. “I don’t have any grudge against you, kid, I guess I would’ve gone after the man who murdered my mother as well. It won’t hurt. It’s not like I enjoy this.”  
Connor looked at him with all the fierceness he could muster, blinking away the tears, and wishing with all his heart that he had waited for Haytham to come back to him; or had looked for him earlier, helped him escape; or paid more attention to where he was going… However, now it was too late, and as he closed his eyes, he only regretted not telling Haytham how much he had loved him.

He wasn’t even sure Lee was about to kill him; but when a shot rang in his ears, he waited for the pain to come; waited for the darkness to return and cloud his mind for a last time. But neither of that happened, and only the heavy thud of Lee’s body slumping down let him open his eyes again.  
In the dappled shade of the corner in which he assumed the door to be, he could see his father, and with a relieved sob, he couldn’t help but feel disappointed that the hitman had shot the detective without getting him to tell Connor why his mother had to die.  
“He didn’t tell me… why he killed Ziio…”, the young man stuttered, looking at Haytham with dark eyes, struggling against his restraints.  
“I know why he killed your mother.”, the older man said as he stepped out of the half-shade, and Connor bit back a strangled sound as he saw in what a bad shape the other was.  
“Let’s get out of here.”

All the way back to the motel, Connor waited for Haytham to scold him for leaving in the first place, but nothing of the like came over the other’s lips. They rode in silence, and when they arrived at their room, Haytham urged Connor to pack up his stuff and change motels once more before they did anything else.  
Once they had picked a new residence at the border of the town, Haytham went to clean up himself, and Connor sat next to the other on the edge of the bathtub, wiping away blood from the older man’s face and eventually asking with a hoarse voice, “Why did you go after him? It was my job to kill him.”  
“No, it certainly wasn’t.”, Haytham answered, looking at him darkly, and hissing when the younger man brushed past a cut on his temple. “You haven’t taken a life yet, and I don’t want you to carry around a burden like that.”  
“That wasn’t your decision to make. Why didn’t you tell me where you were going? I thought you’d never come back; I thought you… you…”  
“I left you because we had sex the other night?”  
“Yes.”  
Shaking his head slightly, Haytham reached out and ran his knuckles over the other’s cheek. “I didn’t tell you where I was going because you would have wanted to come with me. I didn’t... intend to be away that long, I’m sorry I had you worried.”  
Leaning into the touch with a soft sigh, Connor put the cloth down with which he had wiped blood off Haytham’s face and neck. “Why did he kill my mother?”, he asked quietly, looking into the older man’s grey eyes.  
Taking a deep breath, Haytham returned the gaze and eventually answered, “They were running some sort of business with the local dealers; corrupt as they were and are. I don’t quite know how; but somehow Ziio must have found out. Righteous and brave as she was, she went to tell the police in a different precinct, hoping they would do something about it. And even though they promised her they would, they only notified Lee and his men about it, and they went to silence her. I’m afraid Lee wasn’t the only one in it. The job, as you put it, isn’t quite finished yet.”  
“How did you find out all of this? Lee said, he… he had… you only escaped this morning.”  
With a brief nod, Haytham reached out to pull Connor into an embrace. The younger man wrapped his arms around his father desperately; relief flooding through him to feel the other close again; alive and still wanting to be with him.  
“That’s true. But while I wasn’t talking during the time they had me; Lee did even more so; telling me bits and pieces while he tried to find out what I knew.”  
“Are you going after the others?”, Connor asked after a moment of silence; not sure if he wanted him to, or didn’t want the other to do exactly that.  
“Yes.”  
“Please; don’t put yourself in such danger again. I… I _need_ you.”  
Haytham placed a kiss on top of the other’s head and ran a hand over Connor’s back soothingly. “I’m not going to leave you, I promise.”

That night, Connor didn’t sleep. He had curled up at the older man’s side and listened to Haytham’s steady breath and his heartbeat. This whole business with his mother’s murder wasn’t quite over yet; but still, it felt like something new could begin now and arise from the ashes that his old life had become. He thought about everything that had happened; and while he had lost his mother, he had found the man he had been searching for for such a long time; and no matter what would happen now; at least they were together. He snuggled up just a bit closer, placing a soft kiss to Haytham’s jaw and whispering, “ _I love you._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked it; feedback is very, very much appreciated!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! uwu  
> I would appreciate your feedback very much!


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